


Gemini

by solaciolum



Category: Assassin's Creed, Final Fantasy XII
Genre: AC Kinkmeme, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-02
Updated: 2010-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solaciolum/pseuds/solaciolum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fusion of Assassin's Creed and Final Fantasy XII; more Final Fantasy than Assassin's Creed.  Written for a request on the AC kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gemini

**Author's Note:**

> This is a couple of disparate scenes from a sort of Final Assassin's Fantasy Creed XII fusion thing. I find the two worlds map onto one another in rather fascinating ways, and while I don't _intend_ to write more of these scenes, I'm not going to rule out the possibility.

"Safety and peace, Brother." Basch removed his hood out of respect as he entered the Bureau. The noises of Lowtown seemed faint and far away within the darkened confines of the little shop, but there was no response to his greeting save the angry rasp of steel against a whetstone.

He froze in the doorway, feeling the all too familiar hand of guilt and recrimination tighten 'round his chest. He hadn't thought to ask what had happened to the others on that ill-fated mission to recover the Piece of Eden in Nalbina's catacombs. Reks had died, that he knew- he'd heard the boy's screams when the Judge cast him from the room- but _Vossler_ -

He hadn't thought to ask, and neither Ashelia nor Ondore had seen fit to tell him. Another small revenge on their parts, perhaps; he could not blame them.

Vossler sat in the shadows behind the Bureau counter, whetstone in hand. The massive, hulking shape of Nightmare lay on the counter before him, its edge gleaming darkly in the lamplight. He drew the whetstone across the blade; the sound raised the hair on the back of Basch's neck, like someone dragging a fingernail down his spine.

He wore the black robes of a Da'i, but open to the waist in the style of Gizan nomads. The left sleeve had slipped from his shoulder, baring the metal plates of his cuirass and the bandaged stump of his left arm. He would never wield the greatsword again; not even Vossler, for all his strength and skill, could heft Nightmare's weight single-handed.

The whetstone screamed along the blade's edge once again. " _You_ come to Dalmasca speaking of safety and peace?" Vossler didn't look up from the sword. "I would not have thought your traitorous disgrace would lend so much to your sense of humor, _Captain_."

Basch swallowed, his throat gone suddenly thick and dry. He was a Captain of the Order no longer, as Vossler surely knew. "Brother, I-"

"You are here to kill the slaver Talal." Vossler continued as though Basch hadn't spoken. "He sells Dalmasca's orphans to sate the perverted hungers of the Archadian magistrates; he would trade our nation's lifeblood for paltry coin. Begin your investigation among the smugglers by the Garamscythe Waterway, and do not return here until your searching bears fruit."

Basch paused, mouth open around something- some apology, some entreaty- but the whetstone shrieked across Nightmare's too-sharp edge once more, slicing his words to silence before they escaped his throat. He replaced his hood, and fled.

\- - - - - - - - -

The Bhujerban Bureau was a literal breath of fresh air after Dalmasca and the stinking marketplaces of Nalbina; Basch followed the carefully hidden tunnel near the Lhusu Mines until it emerged on the underside of the sky continent. The back of the Bureau was open to the air, and Basch could see a skyskimmer tethered there.

A viera lounged on a pile of cushions near the entrance, smoking a ghalian pipe. She flicked her ears dismissively at Basch as he walked by, and adjusted the fall of her open robes to cover the long lines of her legs.

"Ahh, Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca! You honor us with your presence." The Bureau leader gave Basch an exaggerated bow from behind the counter. "Word of your conquests has reached even these indolent isles."

"Surely the honor is mine, Rafiq." Basch returned the bow in kind, and tried not to smile. "Am I not in the presence of Sky King Balthier?"

Balthier smirked and spread his hands, rings flashing. "Safety and peace, Brother. Come, sit and share a cup of qahwa with me, and I'll even sweeten it with a touch of this madhu- stolen from Ondore's own storerooms. Nothing but the best for a Captain of the Order."

"You are too generous, Rafiq." Basch's voice was dryer than the Estersand; he did not bother to correct Balthier's misuse of his lost rank and title. "But it would be best if I began my investigation immediately."

Balthier sobered so quickly, it was as though the smile had never touched his face. Refusing hospitality was a serious thing among the Dalmascans and Bhujerbans- but it was well known that Balthier, like Basch himself, had been born and raised according to the harsher proprieties of the north. The laws of etiquette were different in lands long since devoured by hungry Archadian warships.

"Seek my informant at the aerodrome- he keeps track of all the comings and goings of Archadian officials. Bhujerba remains neutral still, for all that Ondore has his sticky fingers in Archadian coffers and Assassin supply lines alike. If anyone has seen or heard of your Templar passing through, it will be my man."

Basch inclined his head to the exact degree required by etiquette in thanks, and left without another word. Balthier watched him leave with hard eyes and a tense frown before he reached beneath the counter for his bottle of contraband madhu. He poured two cups and carried them out to the entranceway, where Fran reclined with her pipe.

"That was unkind of you, perhaps." She exhaled slowly, twisting the smoke into fantastical shapes with a flicker of magic.

"I, unkind? You wound me, Fran." He offered her a cup and seated himself beside her. "The good Captain clearly feels remorse for his failures- he should welcome the chance to apologize."

"To send him off with no warning- it is unkind. To both of them, I think." Fran balanced the tiny cup on the tips of her claws and took a deep draught from the pipe.

Balthier watched the squirming smoke creatures tumble towards the ceiling- a garuda and a behemoth entwined about each other- before they were whisked away by the wind currents that whistled through the Bureau. "I am doing them both a favor."

"You are doing yourself a favor," she corrected gently. Her smile above the cup was faintly mischievous. "You only hope our former Captain will succeed in teaching your apprentice subtlety where you yourself have failed."

"Well." Balthier leaned back and sipped at the madhu, appreciating the way its sweetness _burned_. "You know my methods, Fran. Why use two bullets when only one will do, eh?"

\--

Basch returned much later, with a bloody feather and a kicking, cursing Vaan Ratsbane under his arm. Vaan's informant robes were bloodied and torn, but it was Basch who looked to have borne the brunt of their struggles. His eyes were blackening and he walked with a slight limp.

"Safety and peace, Rafiq. Where would you like this?" He hefted Vaan by his collar, and the boy let out a stream of curses that made Fran's ears curl.

"Well, I've certainly no room for him _here_." Balthier wrinkled his nose. "Toss him out the back, there's nothing else to be done."

"Balthier!" Vaan's injured squawk earned him nothing more than an eye roll from the laconic Rafiq.

Basch shook his head and deposited both Vaan and the bloodied feather on the counter before dropping into a weary sprawl among the cushions in the corner. "I think I will share a cup of that madhu with you now, Brother. Judge Sibrand had much to say before I dispatched him, and his words weigh heavy on my mind."

Balthier set out four cups- even one for Vaan, who sat in a sulk on the counter- and filled them with a splash of stolen madhu. "Perhaps we can help to ease that weight, Captain. What is it that troubles you?"

Basch met Balthier's eyes for a long moment before accepting the cup; Balthier's loyalty to the Order and to Dalmasca were questionable at best, but there were none who could say that he was not an honorable man, in his own way. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and downed the madhu in a single swallow, letting its fiery sweetness settle his nerves and give him the strength to voice his suspicions. He opened his eyes to see Balthier and Fran watching him intently; even Vaan seemed to have lost some of his sulkiness in favor of curiosity. Basch took another deep breath, and began to speak.

"I thought it merely paranoia brought on by too many nights spent in cities under Archadian control, but now I must concede that there is no other explanation for my suspicions than this: there is a traitor in the Order, one who has been in league with the Archadian Templars since the death of the king, if not longer..."


End file.
